Ponderings and Musings

Oil companies are reporting record quarterly profits for the 2nd quarter of this year. Shell is up 40% from the same time last year.

Kind of makes you really hate that “$3.129” that appeared on the gas station price board this morning, doesn’t it?

Instead of going on and on about how consumers are basically being screwed by big business when we try to fill our tanks (note the interesting visual that comes to mind when you really read that phrase), I believe that oil companies should embrace the New American Way by changing the public perception of gas prices in lieu of addressing the fact that they’re getting rich while we consumers are mortgaging houses to afford the fuel needed to commute.

This is the perfect opportunity to go metric.

Just imagine how much better you would feel this very moment if you drove down Main St. USA and saw that gas was $0.829 today. By the way, why do they charge to the 9/10 of a cent? What part of Lincoln’s head are they chopping off that penny anyway – the top of his head or his neck? Anyway, motorists wouldn’t be nearly as manic if they thought they were paying less than a dollar for gas. All we need to do is switch from gallons to liters and presto, perceived instant savings.

Makes cents to me.

I’ve always been a metric sort of guy. On the radio I would give the temperature in fahrenheit and celcius. I design road signs in millimeters for my road geek web site. When I was single, I was asked how “big” I was to which I replied “14.65”, not that I measured or anything.

If the U.S. would join the rest of the word and go metric, we’d all be a little bit happier. No more trying to convert quarts to acres. No wondering how many bushels to peck.

And lots of cheap gas!

Sometimes it only takes one little thing to make the day seem brighter and better. This morning I woke up not feeling quite on my game. There were a variety of reasons; it’s been very sticky and hot sleeping the past couple of nights, several of my dreams have been apocalyptic in nature this week and my stomach is feeling a little bit off this morning, undoubtedly because of the nachos and beer I had for supper last night. No regrets though, it was good.

Anyway, Earl and I eat these healthy Special K breakfast bars for breakfast and Earl has a sort of unspoken rule that we don’t open the next box of them until the current box is empty. We’ve been eating strawberry and blueberry bars since we discovered these little goodies, but last week Earl brought home another flavor: Chocolatey Drizzle.

This morning I was finally able to open the Chocolatey Drizzle box. I haven’t had my first bar yet, as it’s sitting to the left of the PowerBook with the promise of breakfasty goodness. But the prospect of eating this little delight has made the morning not so bad.

It’s like a little bar of sunshine.

Yesterday I was all proud of myself because I walked 2 1/2 miles during my lunch hour. Did I feel better for it? Sort of. Not really. I was hot, sweaty and sticky and it wasn’t even from the heat of passion. It was from walking the streets of our fine city. Afterwards, I stuck to my office chair and dripped on my keyboard.

Not pretty.

So today I did the sensible thing. Now if you think that means I packed up a bag of gym clothes to change into during lunch then you really haven’t been paying attention. No, no. I came home and did the right thing, I followed my traditional routine by flying home at an unreasonable speed, parked my butt in front of my computer and surfed the internet, all accompanied by a delicious wrap Earl made for me this morning. (I’m extremely lucky in the “let’s eat!” department).

Will I feel all better this afternoon? I think I will because I won’t stick to the office chair and my keyboard won’t be dripped on. I’ll save the walk for tonight.

With going back to work today after yesterday’s day off I’ve decided that I need a little change of pace to liven things up a little bit. So at lunchtime today I’m planning on going for a walk around downtown instead of my usual mad dash home for lunch and then fighting with traffic to get back on time.

I’m hoping the exercise will wake me up a little bit.

Never the morning person, a fact I pride myself in, I’m working the 7 a.m. to 4 p.m. shift this week and so my butt is dragging already. Sometimes I feel bad for the company I work for, as I’m basically a walking zombie before noon. I wonder if they’re getting their money’s worth. Well, I’m not a zombie, but I’m at my most productive in the afternoon. I work amongst “morning people” that are all chipper and whatnot when they get to work. I occasionally fight the impulse to slap them.

Earl called me “Fuzzy” last night because I haven’t shaved my head since Saturday. For the first time in a number of years I’ve taken a break off from the task. It’s not going to last by any means, but it’s interesting to see what grows and what doesn’t and what color it all turns out to be.

Such an adventurous life.

Today has been a lazy day. I worked on my Blue Marvel fan film script a little bit. Earl and I took did some test taping out in the back lawn to see how bad the background noise would be picked up on the videotape. Of course, that’s when the neighbor decided to fire up the lawnmower. I definitely need to get the wireless mic going.

Other than that work kept me a little busy but mostly it was all about relaxation today. I’m taking tomorrow off with comp time to do some road research for my roadgeek web site so I’m kicked back a little bit and not sweating life at all.

Sometimes a quiet weekend is a good thing.

Today I told my supervisor that I’m taking Monday off. I’ve accumulated enough comp time this week for a little R and R and because I want to be a good team player, I’m taking Monday off so that it doesn’t conflict with anyone else’s plans.

I wonder if he was amused by my proclamation.

I am constantly trying to read people, analyze situations and basically get a grip on the reality around me. At first I read a “sigh” when I told him I wanted Monday off, a quick “fsck” and then I finally got an o.k. So I went with it. It should be interesting in that I’ll be on-call until Monday at 8 a.m. Since I won’t be at work at freedom time, I hope I am still able to resist the urge to chuck my pager into the canal.

My pager and I have a love/hate relationship. I love it when it’s off, I hate it when it’s complaining about something. We’ve become so connected that I almost always reach for it before it even goes off, like some sort of weird psychic vibe is telling me that it’s time to be SuperTech. Earl is always asking me as I reach for the pager before it beeps, “How did you do that?” “It’s a gift.”, I usually reply. I can just see myself on “Who Wants To Be A Superhero?”. “Uh, what’s your superpower?” “I’m able to detect Motorola pagers before they ding.”

Thrilling. Watch out Lex Luthor, I’m going to intercept your pages from your henchmen, insert triumphant laugh here. Wonder Woman will end up hating me because she’ll have to lug me around in the invisible jet because I can’t fly on my own. I’ll have to share a seat with Aquaman (he can’t fly either)which could be a bummer since I don’t want his slimy, seaweedy hands on my knee, I don’t care how big his shoal is.

So what to do on Monday. I think I’ll sleep in and then do some road geeking for the website. With the pager off.

When did we, the American People, stop expecting perfection and start accepting “o.k.” when it comes to things? My goodness, these days if you go to Wal*Mart (Always White Trash, Always), you’re grateful if a) the cashier doesn’t slap you across the face for interrupting her time at her station let alone actually thanking you for your patronage and b) you’re happy that whatever you bought actually works/is edible/doesn’t blow up. We’ve come to accept that the newest version of Windows any expensive computer program won’t be perfect, but maybe the next version will be for twice the price. We’re absolutely giddy that the washing machine we bought lasted five years, when our parents and grandparents expected the same sort of purchase to last twenty years!

Why do we put up with this?

Why don’t we care anymore?

Why is it acceptable to be mediocre these days? Why don’t people expect perfection or at least an attempt in that direction?

I’m finding this quite maddening.

This morning I jumped out of bed a half hour earlier than usual and went for a two mile walk. Not a big deal to many, but for me to jump out of bed thirty minutes earlier than my usual time is quite an accomplishment.

I’ve been walking every morning this week before heading to work. I wonder if the extra burst of exercise is responsible for the run of good days I’ve been having. Hmmm, something to ponder.

Last night, Earl approached me with a task that needed to be done. It’s something that I absolutely dread because it strikes terror right to the bottom of my soul, but what has to be done has to be done, is what he tells me, so I suck it up and go into the computer room and ready myself for 30 minutes of sweat, worry and nerves.

It was time to balance the checkbook.

Earl and I have a really good way of working our finances. Everything we earn gets dumped into accounts that we have equal access to. Our philosophy is that we both contribute 100% of our income to kitty; there is no “mine” nor “his”. Everything is “ours”. And yes, that includes the Acura.

It’s a really good system that I highly recommend for everyone in a committed relationship, except when it comes to balancing the books.

You see, in today’s world of instant accessibility through the marvels of modern technology, it’s really easy to buy things. Bright shiny things. Things that beep. Things that remind you of your childhood. Things that bring you a smile.

Back when ebay was a reasonable place to do make a purchase I bought lots of stuff there. I’d always neglect to write the transaction down, since Earl is the only one with access to our financial records (thank God), and then checkbook balancing time would come along and I’d have to explain a dozen or so transactions to PayPal that weren’t recorded. I’m pretty much over the whole ebay thing these days, plus I strive to make sure I print out receipts if I spend money so that he can record it. But I still get all twitchy and nervous when he announces he needs help balancing Quicken.

So, I yell out an amount and he clicks a little checkmark next to it in the electronic register.

“$12.95”!

“For whom?”, he asks.

“Uh, um, put PayPal.”, as it’s really some foreign company in a different hemisphere. Then he asks me the zinger.

“What category?”

I turn red and say “porn”. Being a smartass, he’ll usually say something like “twink, kink or bear?”

So I respond with something equally fun like “two out of three ain’t bad”. Once in a while, I’ll just say “other” which causes him to cock an eyebrow and then turn back to the computer. “Did you get to keep the download or is there a time limit on it.”

“I have 17 more days of unmitigated enjoyment.”

And it goes on and on until the numbers match up and Quicken makes a little ka-ching noise. He then drops the Purchase Order Threat on me in which I will have to submit a purchase requisition to him, in triplicate and he’ll sign it with approval if I’m deemed worthy.

Hey, if it gets me something shiny or better yet, a “two out of three”, I’m game for anything.

I believe that all meteorologists should stop fooling the public and come clean about the profession. They should just admit that they roll the dice from an abandoned Yahtzee! game and bank that the fates will turn up the right combination to match Mother Nature’s plan for the day.

The weatherman has been saying that this weekend was going to be “picture perfect”, both at home and here at camp.

A quick glance at Doppler shows our home in the midst of a thunderstorm and it’s been raining here at camp.

Let’s face just face facts and stop kidding ourselves. Mother Nature is going to do what she wants, when she wants and where she wants. There’s no telling what’s on her mind. We may think that we’re going to be high and dry for the weekend, but that’s where she’s shows a sense of humor. “Let them be showered for a bit.”

I guess it keeps us humble.